


All the World's a Stage

by injeong



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A lot of the Haikyuu cast appear at random times, A lot of them - Freeform, Actor AU, Cross dressing but only in the form of running lines, Drama student AU, Iwaizumi Hajime Is So Done, M/M, Mixing Shakespeare and typical gen z language?, Pranks with props, References to Shakespeare, Shakespeare Quotations, Shakespearean Insults, aone is a good friend, matsuhana - Freeform, oifuta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22590328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/injeong/pseuds/injeong
Summary: Behind the scenes of the Haikyuu High School's drama department, shenanigans, cross-dressing, and romance occur.(AKA The entirety of the Haikyuu!! cast are all in one giant school, but the focus is mainly on the drama department and their students. This doesn't mean that other characters can't appear, though ;)
Relationships: Akaashi & Ennoshita & Futakuchi & Kozume & Shirabu & Terushima & Yahaba, Futakuchi Kenji/Oikawa Tooru, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**1: ROMEO AND JULIET**

**Roles:**  
Romeo (Montague, hopeless emo romantic) - Oikawa   
Mercutio (Romeo's [gay] friend, neither Montague nor Capulet) - Futakuchi  
Benvolio (Romeo and Mercutio's other [actually sensible] friend, Montague) - Sugawara   
Tybalt (Capulet, kills Mercutio so Romeo kills him) - Kuroo

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound." 

Oikawa struggles to keep a straight face as he looks up towards the makeshift balcony, painfully aware of Matsukawa and Hanamaki giggling from the front row of seats in the otherwise empty theater. He makes a rude gesture towards them as discreetly as possible, but Iwaizumi, fiddling with the lights, still catches the movement and rolls his eyes.

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?  
It is the east and Juliet is the sun!  
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,  
Who is already sick and pale with grief  
That thou her maid art far more fair than sh-she - fuck, I can't do this." 

He glares up at an annoyingly familiar face. Futakuchi, currently draping himself along the balcony's rail, flutters his eyelashes at him. "What's wrong, Romehoe?" 

" _You're_ wrong. Why does it have to be you, anyway? There's plenty of other female actors in our department, just because Alisa's off sick -" 

Straightening, Futakuchi sticks his tongue out. "Hey. I'm the only one who more or less knows her lines, it's not my fault you keep breaking character." 

" _I_ keep breaking character? Who's the Mercutio that keeps swapping crucial lines for threatening vine quotes?" 

Grinning, Futakuchi settles back onto the railing. "Ay, me." 

"She speaks," Oikawa grumbles reluctantly. 

Futakuchi blinks at him expectantly. "Come on, I know you've learnt the lines weeks ago." 

Heaving an unnecessarily long sigh, Oikawa continues, "O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art  
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,  
As is a winged messenger of heaven - or hell, more like -" 

"Excuse me?" 

"Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes  
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him  
When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds  
And sails upon the bosom of the air." 

Oikawa feels a little smugness at Futakuchi's affronted look that still lingers even as he delivers his own lines.

"O Romeo, Romeo! what the fuck, Romeo, why thou be so rude -"

"Futakuchi!" Matsukawa waves the script.

"Hey, these aren't even my lines - Deny thy father and refuse thy name;  
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,  
And I'll no longer be a Capulet."

Drawing closer, Oikawa raises his hands, lowering his voice. "Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"

"It would probably be better if you spoke at this, otherwise, you know, the play would kind of -" 

"Goddamnit, Futakuchi -" Oikawa bites his lip to keep himself from laughing. _This is a serious play,_ he reminds himself. _Tragedy. Think tragedy._

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy:   
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.  
What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,  
Nor arm, nor face, nor any _other_ part  
Belonging to a man ..." Futakuchi wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Oikawa chokes. 

  
  


  
"Lev says Alisa's already feeling better," Oikawa tilts his phone towards Futakuchi. "Thank god, if I have to do that balcony scene with you in a dress again -" 

"Excuse you, I look _adorable_ in a dress." Futakuchi points at himself. "Me? Victorian style clothing? Big lacey puffy dress? 10/10." 

"Talk about your cross-dressing fetish with Aone, I don't want to hear about it." The bell rings, and Oikawa stands, swinging his bag over his shoulder. Leaning back, Futakuchi calls out, "O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?" 

Oikawa rolls his eyes at the curious glances being sent their way. "What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?"

"The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine." Futakuchi uses his script to fan his face seductively, and Oikawa laughs, responding breezily "No thanks, I'm good." 

  
  


"I dream'd a dream to-night." 

Futakuchi leans forwards, his eyes bright under the stage lights. "And so did I." 

"Well," Oikawa prompts, careful to keep the tone of curiosity in his voice. "What was yours?" 

"That dreamers often lie." 

Oikawa tears his gaze from the slight curve of the corner of Futakuchi's lips, and fumbles mentally for a moment, trying to sort through the multitude of verses running through his head. 

"In bed asleep, while they do dream things true." 

His gaze somehow wanders back to Futakuchi's face not long after, and lingers.

Sugawara runs on stage, Futakuchi close on his heels. Oikawa ducks underneath the thick stage curtain and creeps along to the front seats, settling himself next to Hanamaki. 

"He ran this way," Sugawara says, his eyes searching, "and leap'd this orchard wall:  
Call, good Mercutio."

Oikawa nudges Hanamaki. "We made the changes you suggested," he whispers. "Take a look." 

Futakuchi spins, throwing his arms out. "Nay, I'll conjure too." Sugawara retreats to the side as Futakuchi strides into the center of the stage, his face upturned, and shouts, "Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!  
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh:  
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied -" 

"Better," Hanamaki whispers back, giving him a silent thumbs up. "This is good, let's stick with this." 

"He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;  
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him." 

Shaking his head, Futakuchi stretches out his hands, a playful smirk curving his mouth, and speaks. 

  
"Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?" Oikawa straightens his clothes as he walks, raising his hand in greeting. Sugawara huffs a sigh as Futakuchi immediately retorts, "The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?"

"Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in  
such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy."

Futakuchi shakes his head in feigned disbelief. "That's as much as to say, such a case as yours  
constrains a man to bow in the hams."

"Meaning, to court'sy." Oikawa fixes him with a look.

"Thou hast most kindly hit it."

"A most courteous exposition."

"Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy."

"Pink for flower."

Futatkuchi raises an eyebrow, deliberately stretching the silence, and a teasing grin flashes over his face. "... _Right_." 

"Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint." Futakuchi dramatically flourishes, and Sugawara sidles out of his reach, an amused smile playing on his face.

Oikawa nudges him playfully. "Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match."

"Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have  
done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of  
thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five -" Grabbing his arms and shaking them lightly, Futakuchi looks up at him, "was I with you there for the goose?"

Rolling his eyes fondly, Oikawa replies jokingly, "Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast  
not there for the goose."

"I will bite thee by the ear for that jest."

Futakuchi leans towards him, something that Oikawa was expecting, but then he reaches out, moving even closer, and all of a sudden Oikawa is panicking because he can feel the warmth of Futakuchi's breath fluttering against his cheek and hear him right in his ear -

Oikawa stumbles over his lines, fighting to keep the lighthearted expression on his face as he reaches up, grabbing Futakuchi's hand and guiding it away. 

"Nay, good goose, bite not."

His hands linger for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Follow me close, for I will speak to them.  
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you." Kuroo strides forwards, but Futakuchi cuts into his path, blocking him abruptly.

"And but one word with one of us?" His hand drifts down to where the hilt of his sword shows, and he grins up at Kuroo. "Couple it with  
something; make it a word and a blow."

"You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you  
will give me occasion." Kuroo stares down at him as Tybalt, and suddenly the four centimeters of height difference between them seem to grow. 

"Could you not take some occasion without giving?"

Dismissively, Kuroo brushes him aside. "Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,—"

"Consort!" Cries Futakuchi indignantly, ""What, dost thou make us minstrels? and  
thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but  
discords -" Futakuchi throws aside his cloak, sliding the first few inches of his weapon from its sheath. "- here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall  
make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!"

Sugawara grabs at his sword arm, tugging at it to no avail, hissing, "We talk here in the public haunt of men:  
Either withdraw unto some private place,  
And reason coldly of your grievances,  
Or else depart - " he glances around the stage apprehensively, "- here all eyes gaze on us."

Shrugging off Sugawara's grip, Futakuchi points his sword at Kuroo. "Men's eyes were made to look," he scoffs, "and let them gaze;  
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I."

  
"And so, good Capulet,—which name I tender  
As dearly as my own,—be satisfied." Oikawa turns his gaze to Futakuchi, imploring.

Whipping around to stare at Oikawa in protest, Futakuchi cries, "O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!  
Alla stoccata carries it away."  
A flash of white light reflects off his blade as it is drawn, brought down swiftly to point at Kuroo.  
"Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?"

Raising his eyebrows, Kuroo places a gloved hand on his own rapier hilt. "What wouldst thou have with me?"

"Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine  
lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you  
shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the  
eight." The light catches on Futakuchi's sword once more as he brandishes it. "Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher  
by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your  
ears ere it be out."

Oikawa pushes his way through the crowd, and grips Futakuchi's wrists, his voice frantic. "Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up."

In response, Futakuchi shakes himself loose from Oikawa's hold, and smiles, a feral undercurrent running through his words. "Come, sir, your passado."

  
Oikawa tosses a sachet of ketchup at Futakuchi. "Here's your blood prop." 

In response, Futakuchi smoothly empties it over his chips and holds one out to Oikawa. "Want one?" 

He shrugs, and takes one. "Why not? We're going to have to run through the entire act again, I need energy food." 

Futakuchi snorts. "What energy? All Romeo does is make puppy eyes at Juliet, that doesn't need much energy." 

"Hey, don't insult my character! At least he isn't going charging into some other family's fight and getting stabbed for no reason other than wanting to piss off the opponent as much as possible." 

"Excuse me, he only did that because Romero was too much a lovesick pacifist to stand up for himself -" 

"Don't insult my character! If Mercutio hadn't been stupid enough to go flinging himself into every battle he found and dying, Romeo and Juliet would never have died!" 

"He was defending your non-existent honour like a good friend, where were you when he was getting shish-kebabed under your arm?" 

"Dude, do you even pay any attention in class? That's not - "

  
"Tooru, stop it, I can get this blood off myself." Futakuchi tries to wriggle out of Oikawa's lap but Oikawa refuses, flicking the wet cloth in his face to make him shut up and returning to his scrubbing. "Tooru -"

"It'll stain your clothes if it stays for too long," Oikawa returns, and Futakuchi heaves a dramatic sigh. "It really won't." 

"It will." 

"Won't." 

"Shut up." 

Futakuchi lets Oikawa attack the blood with the wet cloth for a few more minutes. "You know this isn't _real_ blood, right?" 

He gets an annoyed huff in reply, which confirms his suspicions. 

"It's fake," he presses, and laughs when Oikawa hits him over the head with the damp rag again. "I'm perfectly fine, you know." 

"... Whatever," Oikawa mutters darkly, and pretends that the sight of Futakuchi's delighted face doesn't make his heart feel like it's melting.

"Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;  
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night  
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.  
Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,   
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,  
Take him and cut him out in little stars,  
And he will make the face of heaven so fine  
That all the world will be in love with night  
And pay no worship to the garish sun." 

Oikawa looks up from the sheet of paper. " _This_ is your favourite bit?" 

"Why not?" Futakuchi crosses his arms. "Can't I enjoy the romance too?" 

"You're _supposed_ to enjoy the romance," replies Oikawa, musing over the paper again. "I just figured that your favourite bit would be like, the giant five-page Queen Mab monologue or something. I mean, you do love the sound of your own voice." 

"And you don't? My voice sounds beautiful," Futakuchi protests, holding a hand over his heart. He gets an eye roll in response, and adds, "Besides, what can I say? Everyone's a romantic sometimes." 

" _Sometimes_?" Oikawa rests his chin in his hands, and fixes him with a suggestive look. "Is now one of those times?" 

Laughing, Futakuchi leans over and brushes their lips together.

"Take a guess." 


	2. 2: Troilus and Cressida

**2: TROILUS AND CRESSIDA**

**Roles:  
** Patroclus ((boy)friend of Achilles) - Futakuchi  
Achilles (Greek hero) - Oikawa   
Thersites (a bitchy Greek soldier) - Terushima  
Ulysses (aka Odysseus) - Akaashi  
Hector (Trojan prince, kills Patroclus which makes Achilles sad) - Kageyama

Oikawa throws open the door to the waiting room, spots Terushima, and immediately exclaims, "How now, thou core of envy!  
Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?"

"Shut the fuck up, Achilles." Terushima flips him off without looking up from his phone, and Oikawa laughs until Iwaizumi walks in and hits him over the head with the sword prop.

In the break room, Futakuchi catches Terushima's eye and lets out an exaggerated gasp. 

"Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou  
to curse thus?"

Terushima sticks his tongue out. "Do I curse thee?"

"Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson indistinguishable cur,  
no."

Scoffing, Terushima replies, "No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idle immaterial  
skein of sleave silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye,  
thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world  
is pestered with such water-flies, diminutives of nature!"

Throwing a rolled up page of notes at his head, Futkuchi yells "Out, gall!"

"Finch egg!" Terushima retaliates.

"Detested parasite!"

"Bolting-hutch of beastliness!"

"Cream-faced loon!"

Oikawa idly watches as the two second-years scrabble through the collection of Shakespeare plays on the desk to search for more insults, and wonders whether he should stop them before a teacher notices.

"Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, bull's-pizzle, you stock-fish!"

"Thou art a boil, a plague sore!"

Terushima swipes at Futakuchi's hand with a copy of the Taming of the Shrew. "Away, you three-inch fool!"

Futakuchi looked outraged.

Oikawa snickers. "There's for you, Patroclus." 

"Dude, come _on_ ," Futakuchi whines. "Shakespeare didn't take the time to write down and include all those wondrously creative insults just so that we wouldn't use them!" 

Oikawa smacks him over the head with his script. "Shut up. Daichi said you have to stay in the naughty corner for five more minutes." 

"You say that as if you don't know like, fifty more insults than I do." 

"No, I don't. I have better things to do in my time." 

"Really?" Futakuchi raises an eyebrow, and Oikawa raises the rolled up script again. "I'll beat thee, but I would infect my hands." 

"There, see?"

"Are the insults the only reason why you joined the drama department?" 

Futakuchi shrugs. "No, but I auditioned for Patroclus mainly because of the bitch-fests between him and Thersites." 

"Really?" Oikawa echoes sarcastically. 

"Well." Futakuchi grins. "The bitch-fests _and_ the deep and profound bond between him and the handsome Greek hero Achilles, as well as the sudden and tragic death off-stage that sparks into motion the fall of Hector and of Troy at the hands of a man driven mad by grief." 

"... fair." 

"You know, we should just, make an adaptation of Homer's Iliad and perform that too! I want you to cry over my dead body for a solid week and drag Hector around my funeral pyre for -"

"We are NOT tying up Terushima and dragging him around a funeral pyre." 

"But -" 

" _No_."

Iwaizumi, arms full of plastic armour, kicks the door to the storeroom open and almost drops what he's carrying. 

"What are you -"

"Oh, Iwa-chan!" The lights are off and he can't quite make out Oikawa's face, but something tells him that Oikawa is most definitely turning red. "Fancy seeing you here! What are you doing?" 

"... I'm helping take the props back inside, which is what I'm meant to be doing. What are _you_ meant to be doing?" 

Futakuchi's face pops up over Oikawa's shoulder and Iwaizumi almost has a heart attack. "Running lines!" 

"... The lights are off." 

"... We're practising getting into our roles?"

Iwaizumi raises an unimpressed eyebrow, dumping the armour in its box. "I don't recall Achilles and Patroclus ever hiding in a dark storeroom doing questionable things anytime in the play."

Oikawa snaps his fingers triumphantly. "Ah-ah, that's where you're wrong! Act one, scene three, Ulysses said that Achilles-"

"- Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent  
Lies mocking our designs: with him Patroclus  
Upon a lazy bed the livelong day  
Breaks scurril jests." Futakuchi grins broadly, Oikawa flips up a peace sign, and Iwaizumi shuts the door.

[ Enter Achilles.]

Terushuima throws open the door to the classroom at lunch.

"Who’s there?" Oikawa demanded. Futakuchi responds quickly.

"Thersites, my lord."

"Where? Where? O, where? Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not serv’d thyself in to my table so many meals?" Brandishing his cheese sandwich, Oikawa jumps off the prop couch and points the sandwich threateningly at Terushima, who whips out his milk carton in defence. "Come, what’s Agamemnon?" 

"This is not strange, Ulysses.  
The beauty that is borne here in the face  
The bearer knows not, but commends itself  
To others’ eyes; nor doth the eye itself,  
That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself,  
Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed,  
Salutes each other with each other’s form;  
For speculation turns not to itself,  
Till it hath travel’d and is mirror’d there  
Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all..."

Futakuchi looks up from the scribbled note. "Is this your way of flirting with me?" 

"Yes," Oikawa replies hopefully. "Is it working?" 

"... It is."

"To this effect, Achilles, have I mov’d you.  
A woman impudent and mannish grown  
Is not more loath’d than an effeminate man  
In time of action. I stand condemn’d for this;  
They think my little stomach to the war,  
And your great love to me, restrains you thus."

Futakuchi moves closer, an almost ethereal looking figure under the warm, golden glow of the stage lights. The white fabric of his tunic ripples as he reaches out, his voice both soft and pressing as he grips Oikawa's shoulder.

"Sweet, rouse yourself, and the weak wanton Cupid  
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,  
And like a dewdrop from the lion’s mane,  
Be shook to air."

Quietly, in the back of his mind, Oikawa takes a snapshot of this moment and buries it down alongside all the other moments like this, filled with warmth and awe and something namelessly wonderful.

"Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus," Oikawa calls, and blows Futakuchi a kiss as Hanamaki wolf-whistles from behind the curtain. "I’ll send the fool to Ajax and desire him."

"Sure thing, Achilles!" Futakuchi waves his cell phone, which he had somehow hidden in the folds of his tunic. "I'll text you when I get him!"

"Wait, what?"

Akaashi bursts into view, dressed in full battle armour and sword drawn. Yachi's newfound formula for fake blood is working perfectly, staining his skin and clothing just the right shade of reddish brown, glimmering under the lights. 

"O, courage, courage, princes! Great Achilles  
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance.  
Patroclus’ wounds have rous’d his drowsy blood,  
Together with his mangled Myrmidons,  
That noseless, handless, hack’d and chipp’d, come to him,  
Crying on Hector."

Crouching behind the stage curtain, Oikawa feigns wiping a tear. "Beautiful," he whispers. "The tragedy of it all ..." 

"He doesn't even properly fight Hector in this version, though," whispers Futakuchi in reply, looking disgruntled. "He just gangs up on him when he's unarmed. I mean, I get that Shakespeare has a meaning for all of this, but still ..." 

Oikawa adjusts the folds of his tunic, grinning. "Just enjoy the show, Kenji."

"I still think we should reenact the Iliad after this." 

"You just want to act out a dramatic death scene and have me mope over your dead body for like, a whole week." 

Futakuchi raises an eyebrow. "Can you blame me?"

"Where is this Hector?  
Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face,  
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.  
Hector, where’s Hector? I will none but Hector."

Futakuchi shushes him before Oikawa ends up reciting the entire scene. "Tooru, he's only five minutes late - he's probably still with Hinata, cut him some slack." 

Oikawa heaves a dramatic sigh, waving a rubber dagger prop aimlessly. "I get that Tobio-chan is infatuated with his new boyfriend, but -"

Grinning broadly, Futakuchi stretches himself over the desk and stares up at Oikawa suggestively. "Well, since Kageyama's going to be late, we have some time to ourselves. What do you want to do?" 

Akaashi interrupts before Oikawa can answer, peering over the top of the script and suggesting, "Please get a room. There are other people present." 

"You say that as if you don't make out with Bokuto as soon as you get within a mile's radius of one another! I've _seen_ you two snogging backstage more times than I can count -" 

"That's just because you can't count very high, isn't it?" 

" _Tooru,_ you're meant to be on my side! And I got a higher score in maths than you in last year's finals, so you can shut up -"

"Look, Hector," Oikawa drawls, "How the sun begins to set,  
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels;  
Even with the vail and dark’ning of the sun,  
To close the day up, Hector’s life is done."   
He keeps his face dark, vengeful, but after a moment's afterthought, opens up to a little sliver of bleeding grief

Turning slowly, Kageyama raises his hands. "I am unarm’d, forgo this vantage, Greek."

Unforgiving, Oikawa draws his sword, a signal to the rest of his soldiers. "Strike, fellows, strike -" He wonders, for the thousandth time, what sort of expression would be best suited for this one moment. "This is the man I seek."

Anger? Acceptance? Fufillment? Grief?

The Hector in front of him falls.

Raising his voice, Oikawa brandishes his sword, the red liquid on the blade splattering on the stage floor, and cries roughly, "So, Ilion, fall thou next! Come, Troy, sink down!  
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.  
On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain,  
“Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain!”"

From backstage, a signal for a retreat is sounded.

"Hark, a retire upon our Grecian part."

"The Troyans’ trumpet sound the like, my lord."

"The dragon wing of night o’erspreads the earth,  
And stickler-like the armies separates.  
My half-supp’d sword that frankly would have fed,  
Pleas’d with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed."

Flicking the blood from his blade, Oikawa sheathes his sword. Distantly, he thinks that it was/ a good idea to change the plastic swords to aluminium - the metallic ring that echoes throughout the theatre has a nice tone of deathly finality.

"Come tie his body to my horse’s tail,  
Along the field I will the Troyan trail."

"Say, Bokuto-san," Futakuchi inquires, "Do you really have time to be hanging out in the drama department? I thought you have exams, isn't social studies hard?" 

"Anything is worth it seeing Akaashi in a tunic and battle armour," says Bokuto dreamily, gazing up at the stage. "Maybe I should volunteer to help out at the drama department, if it means seeing more of this ..." 

"Social studies may come in handy when discussing how to translate a script into a performance." Futakuchi shrugs, but his eyes are glinting. "If you have time, we wouldn't mind an extra set of hands." 

"Really?" 

"Definitely ~ I mean, not to be shamelessly self-promoting, but if you want to see your boyfriend decked out in the hottest historical costumes without seeming weird, the drama department is the best place to do it." 

Glancing around the empty theatre seats, Bokuto lowers his voice and whispers, "... If I help out, can I keep the armour and tunic Akaashi's wearing for just a bit longer? And the sword?" 

Futakuchi winks at him knowingly, and Bokuto lights up so dramatically Futakuchi swears he can see him glow.


End file.
